


but everything is shattering and it's my mistake

by reformedcharacter



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, M/M, multi-chapter (not connected)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reformedcharacter/pseuds/reformedcharacter
Summary: a collection of short angst fics, based on prompts i was given on tumblr.





	but everything is shattering and it's my mistake

“Maybe we were never in love to begin with.”

“Rob, _you know_ that’s not true.”

Victoria’s voice is soft and gentle, kind in a way Robert’s sure he doesn’t deserve. She curls her leg further underneath her, toes digging into the fabric of her couch. She lays a hand on the crook of Robert’s elbow, squeezing lightly. He sighs, a hot gush of air escaping his lips at he stares at her hand. Her nails are shorter than normal, he notes; chipped red nail polish, a thin scratch running down the length of her middle finger. He wants to ask how she got it, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Robert clutches tightly at his wine glass, the dark red liquid threatening to spill over the edge, condensation trickling onto his shaking fingers. Victoria had decided he needed a distraction: wine, Downton Abbey reruns and a frozen cheese pizza tossed into the oven without a second glance. He finds a comfort in Victoria’s home, in the pale pink curtains, the fluffy cream pillows in his lap, the scent of vanilla candles lit on her coffee table. It’s warm, almost overwhelming as he shakily breathes in. He risks a quick look at her, green eyes peering up at his little sister underneath his eyelashes.

It’s like a punch in the stomach, the look on her face. Her features are soft, pale brown eyes wide as she smiles lightly at him. She’s shaking her head slightly, a barely noticeable jerking movement left and right. Her hairs falling out of her braids, frizzy dark brown hair framing her face, tiny freckles dusted over the bridge of her nose. She looks like Sarah, looks more like her as each and every day passes. It hurts, adds to the dull ache at the base of his stomach, makes his head spin and his heart feels heavy in his chest, pounding painfully as he tries to gulp around the lump in his throat.

“Robert, you know that’s not what happened. Aaron’s allowed to be happy.”

Aaron. Her voice catches around his name, like it hurts her to say it, almost as much as it hurts Robert to hear it. Robert scrunches his eyes tight, doesn’t want to appear weak in front of his little sister. He should be the strong one, the one she turns to when she needs help, he shouldn’t be sat on her sofa, picking at the stitches on the arm, as she tries to make him smile, tries to make him feel a flicker of what he used to be.

Robert doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to even think about his husband, his husband, with someone else arms wrapped tightly around him. He’d seen them in Hotten, Aaron laughing loudly, sending unwanted chills down Robert’s spine, making him shiver faintly, before hugging the man tightly to him. Robert had scarpered; coffee forgotten as he rushed out of the café, almost crashing into the man behind him, tears in his eyes and heart pounding. He plays it on repeat, the image passing through his mind whenever his eyes fall shut. He thinks about what could have happened next. Did Aaron take the mans hand lightly in his own, before tugging him out of the building, grin wide on his face? Did they return to the Mill, to Robert’s home, and lie together as the night creeped over the village, shadows passing over Aaron’s face as he smiled into the cushion below his head and ran his hands over the tanned skin of the man?

If Robert thinks about it hard enough he can still feel Aaron’s hand on his skin, can feel his calloused fingers lightly tracing the faint moles on his arm, before falling down and grasping at his hand. He can feel Aaron’s beard, scratching at his cheeks as he pulls him in closer, lips pressing roughly against his own, breath tangling in between them as Aaron pushes him further down into the bed, neck gripped tightly in his hands.

Robert’s throat is tight, eyes wet as he stares at his sister. She licks her lips slightly and sighs, shuffles closer to him, and pushes her left hand through Robert’s fringe. _You need a haircut_ , she thinks, Robert can almost hear it, knows she wouldn’t dare say it, say anything to cut Robert down further. Wouldn’t say anything to make him think too much about Aaron, about how he would thread his fingers through his fringe, tugging at it lightly, voice teasing as he pushes it up and off his face, pressing a light kiss to his forehead before tucking his face into the mop of blonde hair laying flat on his head.

His hands are shaking more now, little droplets of wine splashing around inside the glass, light red stains covering the once pristine crystal. Robert wants to scrub at it, return it to the immaculate condition it was in before he Robert had filled it with the blood red liquid. He could almost snort at the irony.

“I know that Vic. _I know_ , but why couldn’t he have been happy with me?” Robert’s voice is shaking, breath heavy as he stares ahead.

Robert has a feeling that’ll be something not even Vic could answer

**Author's Note:**

> i don't write much angst, so any and all comments are appreciated!
> 
> my tumblr is robertsuggers for any feedback!


End file.
